


Human Touch

by indevan



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24670498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: “Have you moved at all since I left?” he asked.“I might have.”“Right.”
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	Human Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of two pieces I wrote for the [Rest Day Zine](https://twitter.com/restdayzine)! We're considering doing a rerun of this amazing collection of works so follow to keep an eye out

One thing Linhardt had to admit was the fact that he very easily lost track of time. It seemed less than ten minutes ago did Caspar announce that he was going to the gym. Now he was startled from his reverie by the sound of the key in the lock. He moved his eyes towards his phone and saw that two hours had passed. He rubbed a hand over his face and got up from his scrunched position.

His and Caspar’s apartment wasn’t large. It had one room that contained their bed and a small, two person table for eating. This room shared floorspace with the kitchen but the dismal, strained peas-colored carpet gave way to yellowed linoleum at the room divide. The only other room was the bathroom.

Because he hadn’t moved from their bed since this morning. Linhardt only had to turn to look at the door rather than exert the extra effort of getting out of bed and walking over as he would have had to do if they had a “proper” bedroom. This was far more convenient… which was a lie that he and Caspar told themselves over and over again looking at their small living quarters.

_ That’s the price you pay, _ Linhardt reasoned with himself on more than one occasion,  _ when you spurn your family’s wealth… _

Caspar walked in the door, his bag slung over one shoulder and hair still wet from the gym showers. He gave Linhardt a grin in greeting before turning to turn the deadbolt.

“Have you moved at all since I left?” he asked.

“I might have.”

“Right.”

One thing people always overlooked about Caspar was that he could be extremely oblivious about many things, but never when it came to Linhardt. Even before they got together, he knew him better than anyone else had ever had.

Caspar dropped the bag onto one of their kitchen chairs and pulled one arm across his shoulder in a stretch. He winced, barely, but enough for Linhardt to notice.

“Did you pull something?”

He shifted in his blankets to be in a better seated position than the squished one he had been in earlier.

“No. At least, I don’t think so?” Caspar worked his shoulders up and down, shrugging them in circles from back to front.

Linhardt unfurled himself slowly from the bed, careful not to disturb his notebooks and textbooks. He got his leg snagged in the laptop charging cord and carefully unwound it. Had he been someone like, say, his dear boyfriend, he could have very easily jerked his leg and sent his laptop clattering off the bed and onto the floor. Not that Caspar had done that before and had to go buy Linhardt a new laptop during their freshman year of college. No, of course not.

“Come here,” he said. “I can massage it.”

Caspar let his shoulders drop.

“You could?”

One thing that both endeared and frustrated him in turn was Caspar’s inability to hide how he felt about anything.

“I’ve researched massage techniques,” Linhardt said.

Once, when his own neck ached, he had fallen into a hole of massage and stretch techniques when he was supposed to be working on his thesis. Caspar squinted his eyes at him for a moment before he shrugged and moved towards the bed. He perched on the end, his back to Linhardt. As he drew closer, he noticed that Caspar’s hair smelled like apple shampoo.

“Did you bring my shampoo to the gym with you?”

He saw his boyfriend’s back tense.

“Maybe...I was gonna put it back. Mine is just all out.”

“Hmm.”

It didn’t bother him, really. Linhardt rose up on his knees and braced his hands on Caspar’s shoulders. He dug his thumbs in, moving them in a circular motion as he began kneading at the tight muscles. Linhardt never worked out unless he was absolutely forced to (his list of excuses to get out of gym in high school was long enough to require an index), but he thought that exercising was supposed to loosen one up. Caspar’s shoulders felt tight. He worked on Caspar’s shoulders as best as he could, but soon his right hand seemed to give a shudder and he released him.

“Oh,” he said, shaking out his hands. “I guess I don’t have a lot of hand strength.”

Caspar rolled his shoulders back and turned his face slightly over his shoulder to give him a grin.

“That felt nice, though. And it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Linhardt still felt bad. He never really tried for other people. Not without deep personal investment. If pressed, he was certain that he would probably do most anything for his friends, but he didn’t think of himself that way on the surface. Except with Caspar. He always tried for him, even when they were little. He would play elaborate, physically exerting make believe games outdoors. He researched different training methods in high school when Caspar wished to make the wrestling team.

“What about you?” Caspar asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“What about me?”

Caspar leaned back, putting his weight against him, eyes on Linhardt.

“I bet you haven’t moved at all since I left.”

“And?”

He didn’t bother to try and argue. Caspar knew him too well for that, anyway.

“You’re sitting crouched over your laptop like a shrimp.”

Linhardt didn’t quite follow.

“Shrimp?”

“Yeah! Y’know how when you see a shrimp they’re always, like, folded in half or whatever?” Caspar brought his hands up by his face and wiggled his index fingers in what he--Linhardt could only guess--presumed a shrimp looked like.

“Even cooked in a, like, cocktail. All crouched.”

He still wasn’t sure how he got to these logical leaps but talking about his posture made Linhardt aware of a pressure and ache in his shoulders.

“Maybe,” he allowed.

“Great!”

Before he could register it happening, Caspar switched their positions on the bed. Linhardt was now aware of their old, worn carpet beneath his feet and his backside resting on the edge of the mattress. Caspar was behind him, smelling like Linhardt’s shampoo and his own deodorant. He put both hands on his shoulders and Linhardt could feel the heat of them through even the bulky knit of his sweater.

“Okay.”

Caspar began performing the same ministrations that Linhardt had earlier, but with far more… vigor. Reflexively, he clenched his shoulders in and arched his back away from the firm touch.

“Ah--ah!”

“Oh, too rough?”

Was it?”

Linhardt relaxed his back.

“Just don’t… clamp like that.”

“Got it!”

Caspar resumed kneading at his shoulders and neck. As he did, Linhardt was aware of feeling warm spread from his shoulders down to his fingers. He reached back to draw his hair over one shoulder for him to make it easier for Caspar.

“Wow, you’ve got a ton of knots, Lin.”

He moved his hands down, working the pads of his thumbs into the muscles on either side of his spine, near his shoulder blades. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had had a massage like this. Caspar was probably a bit  _ too  _ firm, but Linhardt’s back seemed to be a knotted, tense mess.

He worked his way back up, using one hand to massage the back of Linhardt’s neck. His body felt warm all over as blood began flowing through him. Caspar’s thumb worked at the tense muscles right at the base of his skull.

“Okay, don’t wanna go too hard here and knock you out for something,” he said with a laugh.

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Well, it might. Besides, your shoulders are a mess.”

“Yes, well…”

Caspar placed a kiss on the back of his neck before he resumed kneading the taut muscles at his shoulders.

“These are the trapezius muscles,” Caspar said. “They tense really easily.”

“You know what they are?” he asked before he could stop himself.

He couldn’t see him but he could very nearly  _ hear _ Caspar roll his eyes.

“Duh. I do strength training. You gotta know what the different muscles are called.” He paused and then said, “Except Raphael has nicknames for all of them.”

“I bet he does. So what does he call these?” Linhardt hunched his shoulders a bit against his hands.

“Big meaties.”

Somehow, he shouldn’t have expected anything less. He arched his shoulders back a little. Caspar took the balls of his shoulders in his hands.

“I’m gonna pull them back to help your posture.”

“Does it?”

“I dunno. But it feels nice.”

He pulled them back and Linhardt heard a joint pop. He felt warm all over and, as Caspar continued, increasingly relaxed. Maybe he  _ was _ sitting like a shrimp or whatever it was Caspar said. But this felt heavenly. Caspar felt heavenly.

Too soon, his hands retreated. Linhardt fell back against him, head hitting his chest due to their difference in seated positions.

“Why did you stop?”

Caspar brushed some dark green hair from his forehead.

“Don’t wanna bruise ya, Lin.”

“Ah.”

That was that, then. He would have to wait, but. This was amazing. He relaxed against Caspar and let his boyfriend play with the longer strands of his hair.

“I wanted to help you,” he said after a moment.

“Can’t help not having strength in your hands. And ‘sides, I like helping you anyway.”

Caspar dropped a kiss in his hair and then another on his temple. Linhardt settled in with him, feeling content in his arms.


End file.
